


Yours

by lookupkate



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom John, Gay club for a case trope, Jealous Sherlock, John gets hit on, M/M, Smut, Top Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 18:06:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2477531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookupkate/pseuds/lookupkate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock go to a gay club for a case. John gets hit on and Sherlock gets jealous. Gay sex ensues. </p>
<p>For my lovely Jess. Happy six month anniversary. Yours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yarnjunkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarnjunkie/gifts).



"You do realise this is spandex?" John asked as he pulled on the shirt Sherlock insisted he wear. 

"We have to fit in." Sherlock replied. "Here." 

John took the pomade he was handed and frowned at the sheen that came from it. Upon closer inspection it did indeed contain glitter. Small specs, yes, but bloody metallic glitter. 

"Isn't this a bit over the top?" John asked. 

Sherlock walked back out of the loo and John's breath caught in his throat. He was wearing his tightest trousers and a white mesh vest that should have looked ridiculous but really didn't. How he pulled it off John would never know. His curls bounced and shown in the lamplight and John decided he should probably close his mouth. 

"What's wrong? Do I look strange? I was reliably informed that this shirt was appropriate." Sherlock said as he pulled at the mesh top. 

John shook his head and used the mirror to put the pomade in his hair. "Nothing's wrong." he replied weakly. 

Sherlock huffed and left the room to John's relief. He was having a very hard time hiding his attraction to his roommate. It wasn't the fact that Sherlock was a man that put him off, his longest relationship had been with the Major, it was the fact that he was so obviously unattainable. He'd tried that first night, hadn't he? Sherlock just didn't get those urges, he didn't think. 

"We're going to be late!" Sherlock announced from the sitting room. 

John walked out, feeling rather silly, and stood at the front door to put his shoes on. Sherlock came up behind him and spun him around. He began fussing with John's hair and scowling. 

"This is how you were going to leave the flat? Really, John, it's like you don't want us to find the kidnapped girl!" he complained. 

"It's not like they're going to be looking at me, Sherlock!" John said as he let Sherlock fix his hair. 

Sherlock shrugged in agreement and went to wash the glitter from his hands. John opened the front door and started down the steps, not wanting to have to see Sherlock's arse in that getup again before they were in some sort of subdued lighting. His own arse probably looked ridiculous. He tried to argue Sherlock out of making him wear leather but he'd been shot down. None of his trousers revealed enough of his 'generous cock' apparently. It was almost a compliment. 

Sherlock caught up to him at the kerb and hailed a cab right away. The driver looked them up and down with a sour face but took them to the club nonetheless. John tried to remember not to tip him. It wasn't like they were making out. A look like that was insulting. 

When they made it to the club Sherlock hopped out and John tossed a few notes at the driver and followed. He stopped when Sherlock pressed a hand to his chest. 

"We can't be seen going in together. You wait in line." Sherlock said. 

"Wait! Where are you going?" John asked. 

It was too late, Sherlock was already running ahead and putting his hands all over the bouncer. John had absolutely no right to the anger he felt at someone else touching Sherlock but it burned deep in his chest anyway. Traitorous body. 

Someone bumped into John as he was watching Sherlock get in with ease. He turned to look up at the man who had run into him. 

"Sorry, mate. Oh. Sorry." the man said, drawing the second sorry out as if to say something else entirely. 

"It's fine." John replied, taking in the torn jeans and tight black t-shirt. "Honest mistake." 

The man ran a hand through his short curly hair and winked at the bouncer. He turned back to John with a wide grin. 

"Let me make it up to you."

"I'm, uh, are you going in?" John asked, suddenly a bit flustered from the obvious attention. He hadn't expected anyone to notice him let alone taking a liking. 

"Honey, I own the place. Come on." The man said as he took John's hand. 

Oh. Oh. Oh shit. This was Marcus. Bloody hell, this was Marcus Dean. He was their bloody mark! He was the one they were trying to get close to. John laughed to himself over how pissed Sherlock would be that John ran into him first and followed the man into the dark building. 

The music was unreasonably loud and there were colored lights of every sort moving about and distorting everything. John followed Marcus to the bar and waited as the barman poured them both drinks and passed them over. John hesitated before taking his but decided he'd better keep playing the game. This was the plan after all, no matter how skewed it had become. 

"To late nights and boys in leather." Marcus said as he held his drink aloft. 

John chuckled and clinked his gently before taking a sip. 

"I'm not a boy anymore." he said as Marcus leaned against the wall to look him over. "Haven't been a boy for a long time." 

Marcus licked his lips and smiled. "What would it take for you to dance with me?" he asked. 

"Ten more drinks!" John joked. 

Marcus held his hand up and the barman pushed an unopened bottle of whiskey over. John's eyes widened as the tall man handed the bottle to him. 

"On the house." he said with a wink. 

John threw back his drink and chuckled nervously as he surveyed the area for Sherlock. He was getting hit on by their mark and the bloody git was nowhere to be found. 

"You looking for someone?" Marcus asked, standing a bit closer and twisting the cap off the bottle. 

"No, erm, no one." John replied. 

"Good. Down the hatch." Marcus said. 

John took a long sip of the whiskey as Marcus watched on and stuffed the bottle into his back pocket. Marcus grinned and pulled him onto the dance floor. 

_____

Marcus was late. He always came to work at the same time but tonight he was late. And where the hell was John? He'd probably been turned away at the door. Might have stumbled over his words and put the bouncer off. He knew he should have just dragged him in himself. It was clear enough how nervous John was by the way he had stared at him earlier. Afraid of coming off as gay, even as he was undercover. Should have seen it coming. 'All fine', sure. 

_____

John took another sip of alcohol as Marcus pressed against him. He could feel the man's outstretched arms surrounding him as he swallowed and promised himself that would be his last drink. Christ, Sherlock needed to show up soon. He was supposed to be the one distracting Marcus so John could get photos of the papers, not the other way around. 

He pushed the bottle back into his pocket and started to sway to the music. It wasn't really half bad once you got used to it. The alcohol probably helped a bit too. Marcus was yammering on about something or other as they moved against each other on the middle of the floor. John forced himself to listen. 

"Please tell me you're single." he said. 

John grinned, his newest girlfriend had just broken it off with him so he didn't have to lie. "Yup." 

Marcus grinned and ran one hand through John's hair. John closed his eyes and a thought came to his mind unbidden. Marcus had large hands. This would probably be what it felt like to be carressed by Sherlock. 

His cock gave a jump and for a second he thought he should push away. God, it felt good, though. Having someone taller than him surround him in warmth. He could pretend it was Sherlock. That wasn't breaking any rules. No one needed to know. 

"You feel good." he mumbled as he pressed himself against the taller man. 

Marcus took this as a good sign and gripped one arsecheek roughly so their groins were pressed together. John slid his hand up into surprisingly silky curls and pulled. It elicited a sigh and Marcus kissed his neck. 

They were moving together roughly now, grasping at each other's clothes and grinding their cocks together through their trousers. John had his eyes clamped shut and was about to kiss the man when his arm was wrenched painfully. 

"What is the bloody-" he began. 

Sherlock was standing there glaring at him. He felt his stomach fall as he was pulled from the building. Sherlock maneuvered him into a cab and they sped off towards Baker Street. 

"Yes." Sherlock said into his mobile. "All the pictures are in the email. Yes. It's just as we thought. Yes. Goodnight." 

John sat stunned, looking out the window and feeling unusually guilty. He wanted to say something to Sherlock but he couldn't seem to find the words. He was sitting awkwardly on the fifth of whiskey and his cock was pressed tight against his zip. It was the most uncomfortable cab ride he'd ever taken. 

"John. For Christ's sake! Get your head out of your pants and come inside!" Sherlock shouted. 

John looked up to see they were home and followed him out of the cab. Sherlock stomped up the stairs and slammed the door in John's face. That was what snapped John out of it. He growled and stomped through the door. 

"This is bloody ridiculous! You got the photos and solved the fucking case and the fact that you're so pissed off that someone found me attractive instead of you for once is juvenile! I'm not as disgusting as you obviously think I am! Bloody deal with it!" he shouted. 

Sherlock spun around and crowded him up against the wall. 

"Don't pretend like you don't see it! You know how attractive you are and you rub it in my face! Taking home a new woman every week! Making me step closer to fix your hair! Making me watch as you grind against the bloody suspect!" Sherlock shot back. 

John's mouth fell open for the second time that night. "You find me attractive?" 

Sherlock huffed a laugh and took a step back. "Shut up, John. Everyone finds you attractive!" 

John thought that over for a second. "I don't care about everyone. You. You find me attractive. Not in a vague, societal construct way, but in a sexual way. You're attracted to me." he said in awe. 

"Of course I'm bloody attracted to you! But you aren't gay, you've told me that a million times, so grinding up against our suspect tonight was unfair! You did that to provoke me and it's not funny." Sherlock replied, folding in on himself as he fell to the sofa. 

"I didn't...I wasn't..." John began. 

"You think I don't feel! I get it! That's what everyone thinks! Leave!" Sherlock shouted. 

"I was pretending he was you." John said softly. 

Sherlock went rigid and looked up. John could see the facts falling into place in his mind. When Sherlock suddenly stood John took a step back like frightened prey. Only he wasn't frightened. There was adrenaline, yes, but it wasn't from fear. 

"John." Sherlock growled. 

"Yes." John squeaked. 

Sherlock grinned slowly and took another step forward. "John." 

John swallowed hard and fumbled the bottle out of his back pocket. 

"You were pretending he was me." Sherlock said roughly. 

"Ah, yes." John admitted nervously. 

"And he kissed your neck." Sherlock stepped closer. 

"Yes."

"And you became fully aroused." Closer still. 

"Yes." John replied in a soft whisper. 

"Because you want me. You. Want. Me." Sherlock said as he took the last step so they were pressed against each other. 

John dropped the bottle and made a kind of choking noise as Sherlock rolled his hips and their lengths grazed each other. 

Sherlock chuckled. "It's true. This whole time. You were hitting on me that first night." 

John nodded and sighed as Sherlock gripped the back of his neck and ran his nose against John's cheek. 

"You smell like him." Sherlock growled. 

"I-I'm sorry?" John asked, not sure if his feet were even touching the ground anymore. 

"You will be." Sherlock replied. 

It took no time to drag John to his bed and begin stripping him. He spouted deductions the whole while and John didn't even try to pretend it wasn't arousing. 

"You've been with men before. Several. You like to be dominated. You like to be overwhelmed. One was in the army. He was your superior officer. You liked choking on his cock." 

John whimpered as Sherlock pulled his pants down and off, tossing them to the side and starting on his own clothes. 

"You like to bottom because it makes you feel submissive yet cherished. You want me to take you." Sherlock exclaimed. 

John moaned as their cocks lined up and Sherlock thrust his hips. 

"Say it, John. Tell me you want it or I swear I'll stop." Sherlock said against John's shoulder. 

"I want you to take me." John whined, hips moving in small circles and eyes closed tightly. 

Sherlock pulled back and John made a sad little sound that Sherlock instantly kissed away. John watched as he grabbed lube and a condom from the bedside table and settled between John's legs. 

"How long have you wanted me?" Sherlock asked as he spread lubricant on his fingers and slipped them between John's arsecheeks. 

"Oh! Since the first night! Leaning against the wall downstairs laughing. And then, then you were looming over me and...and" John began. 

Sherlock rubbed at his hole and then slowly inserted the tip of his finger. He leaned down and licked up John's cock. 

"Tell me John." Sherlock demanded, hot breath ghosting over John's sensitive cock. 

"I wanted you to push me up against the wall and fuck me right there!" he admitted weakly. 

Sherlock reached up and stroked John's cock as he pushed one finger all the way in and pulled it slowly out. John moaned and pushed back against the finger as it was engulfed once more in his constricting heat. Sherlock added another and slowly turned them. 

"Please, Sherlock! Please!" John begged. 

"One more finger. You've got to relax for me." Sherlock murmured against his abdomen. 

John keened and Sherlock chuckled, voice low and teasing against his skin. It made him shiver and moan even louder as Sherlock pushed in a third finger and eased him open. It had been so long since anyone had done this to him, for him. 

"Now!" John pleaded. 

Sherlock sat up and ripped the condom packet open as John gripped the sheets and stared at him with lust in his eyes. He rolled on the condom, poured lube over himself and held his cock at John's hole. 

John tried to move down the bed, desperately searching for breach. Sherlock ran his fingernails up the inside of John's thigh and bit his lip. 

"Tell me you're mine." Sherlock all but whispered. 

John's eyes shot up to his and he nodded eagerly. "Yours! I'm yours Sherlock! There's no one else! No one!" 

Sherlock pressed his cock against John's slick opening and the head popped through into the tight heat. They both moaned at that and John struggled to get more. He was whining and saying something but Sherlock didn't hear a word, his eyes and thoughts focused on where their bodies met. He rolled his hips and more of his cock was buried in John. 

"Mine." he said absently. 

John managed to wrap his strong legs around Sherlock's back and surprised him when he pulled until Sherlock was fully seated in him. 

"Fuck! Oh, fuck! Do it! Move!" John begged as he scratched up Sherlock's arms. 

Sherlock pulled out and slammed back in, grunting and reaching down to grip John's hair. He did it again and again until he'd set up a brutal rhythm. John was shaking below him, his cock practically drooling precome on his stomach. 

"John." Sherlock mumbled. 

John held onto his neck as he bent down to seal their lips together. He let the taller man lick into his mouth and around his teeth and drive his prick into him ruthlessly. When they broke apart they were both panting. 

"Let me ride you." John begged, voice ragged with arousal. 

Sherlock gasped and quickly pulled out so he could sit against the headboard. John crawled up his body and stilled over him while Sherlock held his cock striaght. He sank down slowly, whimpering at the feeling of being completely full and rolled his hips. 

"I need, I need you to fuck up into me." he said breathlessly. 

Sherlock gripped his hips and thrust his cock up as John started to bounce in his lap. There would surely be marks on his hips the next day but that didn't stop John from growling 'harder' as he found the right angle. 

His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he started to move like a man possessed, rocking back and forth as a litany of praise fell from his lips. 

"John!" Sherlock grunted. "I'm close! Oh! John!" 

John gripped his cock and whimpered as he fucked himself on Sherlock as fast as he could manage. Sherlock felt the heat around him tighten as John began to come and followed him over the edge. He pulsed long and hard into the condom as he ran his fingers through John's hair and kissed his face. 

When they had both made it through the aftershocks Sherlock rolled them onto their sides and slowly pulled out. John whimpered and he kissed him gently. 

"John?" he asked. 

"Mmm." John replied. 

"You'll stop seeing those insipid women, won't you? " Sherlock whispered, hoping his voice didn't seem too unsure.

"Yours." John whispered as he fell asleep.


End file.
